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Showing content with the highest reputation on 12/02/2018 in all areas

  1. I watched Steven Universe myself, so I know that she is not only a hydrokinetic but also a shapeshifter... hmm... I could make the bladder as big as I want knowing that. Here you go So big you can't see the rest of the body Just kidding, here you actually go This is probably nearing the limits of how big I'm willing to make a bladder bulge. As a matter of fact I used pregnant woman as reference for this one so you could say this size is kind of a... stretch . . . In all seriousness that was a bad idea, before fixing it just looked like a potbelly, as far as I'm concerned it might still do.
    4 points
  2. Version 1.0.0

    5,432 downloads

    It took me months to dig, cut, and compile in my spare time, but I'm happy it's finally done guys! This is a mega compilation of clips from over 40 superheroine JAVs, most found on this amazing blog and some found on other AV sites. I manually dug through the entire blog's clips to search for wetting scenes, before cutting them out and compiling them all here. The blog has such an amazing collection of superheroine JAV that I would easily have missed out some that had wetting scenes inside, so I apologize in advance if there are. Until now the blog is still being constantly updated so I'll occasionally check back for more. I also searched on other AV sites to add on to the collection by searching up popular series titles that contained wetting scenes more frequently. Alas, I believe there are still many many more out there I did not manage to procure. Most of the wetting occurs as a result of fear, torture, pain, stimulation, and others. I split the compilation into 3, each of them spans about 30-40 minutes long. The quality isn't amazing, so I apologize for that. At the very least it should still be perfectly watchable. There are title cards (pathetically made in WMM) before each clip so you'd know which JAV clip it is from. If you want any specific video (either the wetting scene cut on its own or the full JAV), just tell me its title and I'll gladly give it to you. If you enjoyed these, which is all I could ask for, fret not because there's more on the way. Some of the clips I found will be uploaded outside from this mega compilation, because I felt that they truly deserved their own shine. Most of them have multiple amazing wetting scenes on their own. So keep a lookout for them 🙂 Lastly, shoutout to @DuffMan for making fall in love with superheroine videos, as well as all his Fear Wetting compilations. Hoping this can help contribute to his legacy.
    Free
    3 points
  3. Literally the dumbest thing happened to me today. I got myself so desperate again I thought my bladder would burst. So I have a part time job where I go and tutor this 6 year old boy Chinese every week. He's an Asian boy and his parent's don't know any proper Chinese so they want me teaching him. In case they somehow see this post and figure out who I am let's just call the boy Max from now on. Anyway, today was just like any other day, I go to his place and start my teaching. I usually give 2 hour lessons and today was no different. Normally, I would empty my bladder before going to his place. I'm too embarrassed to ask to use their bathroom (DON'T ASK ME WHY IM JUST SHY T.T) and even in the past when I had too pee during lessons I would hold it till I was back home before I relieved myself. But today I had sort of a hectic schedule. I had lunch with a friend I haven't seen in a while and immediately hopped over to Max's place. I drank a bit too unreservedly during lunch and I was already feeling a slight urge to pee when I got to his place. Anyway, I held onto it and carried on with my lesson. The need to pee made the lesson unbearable. At first, it was just a slight bother down there, which kept me from focusing on what I was doing. An hour later, the urge was growing into something quite hard to ignore. I kept crossing and recrossing my legs, eyeing longingly at the toilet. I kept practicing in my mind saying 'I'm sorry I need to use the toilet.' but I just felt too embarrassed to do it. Halfway through the lesson, Max's mom handed me freshly juiced orange juice and kept encouraging me to drink it. I found no polite way to refuse, and took several reluctant gulps. I could literally feel my pee hole tingling whenever I swallowed the juice. Teaching Max is so difficult when you have a bursting bladder. He's the type that wouldn't sit still and chasing him around while needing to pee was a pain. I found myself cradling my bladder like a pregnant woman when he ran off with my pencil case and every step I took made me want to pee even more. I usually have all the patience for him but this time I simply had to pee way too badly. When sitting down, I slipped my phone between my legs and pressed onto it so the corner would press onto my pee hole to relieve the pressure. But at some point even that wasn't enough so I slipped my hand down my skirt and quietly held myself. It worked fine until Max whispered to my ear 'Why do you have your hands in your skirt' and started laughing hysterically. I was so embarrassed I could feel my ears go red, and I swore I felt the urge to tape Max's mouth shut at that time. The lesson finally ended, and but that time I was REALLY desperate. i quickly said bye to Max and his mom, and made a dash to the bus station. I think I was pretty naive to think I could make it back home at that state, but I was so desperate I wasn't thinking straight. I was hopping on spot, and luckily no one was there with me, so I held myself freely. While I was waiting I was starting to loose control. My panties were a little damp and I was holding myself so hard I can’t imagine myself riding on the bus in that state. 10 minutes later the bus came, but I made a bold decision to run back to Max’s place and ask for the toilet, something which I should’ve done an hour ago. When I got to the door I rang the doorbell, but no one answered. For a second I feared they all went out or something. But then I heard Max’s voice coming from the backyard. Next to the house was a tall metal gate that led to the backyard. I stumbled over there, clutching myself to keep my pee from gushing out, and saw Max. He saw me and came over. I was quite frantic when I saw him and all I said was ‘please open the door for me’. He asked me why and asked why I was hunched. I told him I really had to pee and told him to let me in. Max then said whether I would pee myself if he didn’t let me in. At that moment I knew he was going to make a joke out of me. I did all I could and begged him to get his mom, but apparently she was working on something at the backyard and couldn’t hear us. I tried pulling the gate frantically but it was locked. Max kept taunting me and making water sounds, with no intention of letting me in. I was holding myself with both hands and so my skirt was a little rolled up, and Max said he could see my underwear and roared with laughter. I was so angry and hurt and desperate at that time I had no idea what to do. Luckily, right at that moment, Max’s mom came over to my rescue. I was so embarrassed that all I said was ‘I need to pee!’ and she quickly let me in. I ran to the toilet, yanked my panties down and peed and peed and peed. After that I had a pretty awkward send off from Max’s mom telling me that I am always free to use their toilet. She was like ‘you poooor girl!’ and asked me how long I was holding my pee for. She also told Max off for taunting me though he’s a little boy and I pretty much forgive him now that its all over. And that was the end of that.
    3 points
  4. I've found myself a new lolcow https://www.animefeminist.com/review-goblin-slayer-episode-1/
    3 points
  5. Version 1.0.0

    444 downloads

    This film segment appears to date back to the 50s or 60s and the girl appears to modelling in some kind of cloth diaper. Whether or not it is a diaper is unknown but the source I found the video from on 'Iceporn' claimed it was. I have no idea if it is really a diaper she is wearing so I guess I'll let you guys judge for yourselves. Anyway I hope you find this video interesting. Her nipples also remain covered at all times and there is no real nudity.
    Free
    2 points
  6. Late for Work

    From the album: Jailor Eckman's Hoard

    It's not hard to see why her manager is pissed, considering she was twenty minutes late and only half in dress-code. If she's seen anywhere BUT the register, she's going to be fired. "Anywhere" apparently includes the restroom, which is bad news for her unbelievably full bladder... Now she's bouncing and counting every second of the last six hours of her shift. I'm back! I had a pretty tough latter-half of November. Here's to hoping I can get some more drawings done and out for you guys! Due to popular demand, I think I'll be continuing Fish4Nitefield after this! (Sorry about the crappy paint-job... I was getting anxious to get another upload in before the end of the month!)
    2 points
  7. Hey everyone, I have been lurking on this site for the longest time and decided to make an account today. I'm a 19 year old South Korean (F) currently studying abroad in the US, and now I'm on a vacation in Asia (Thailand). I have discovered when I was about 15 years old that I enjoy being desperate to pee. When I really need to go, I get turned on and if I'm home, I will try not to go to the bathroom when I need to. Despite this I do not intend to make myself desperate in public at all. I don't really enjoy drinking a ton of water and holding it until I get home or anything, I just let it happen naturally. I'm also not a fan of peeing myself either. This might seem strange to other people but for whatever reason, I just can't make myself pee if I'm in public. Luckily enough because of that I've never peed myself ever (except when I was a baby of course). My mind would always force the pee to stay and push to the absolute limit and I never had an instance where I couldn't hold it anymore, although this lead to some extremely torturous moments. Unfortunately for me, I hate public bathrooms. I'm an introvert (INFP) and really hate when people are aware that I need to find a bathroom, so I usually hide the fact except for when I absolutely have to go. I actually don't find it enjoyable to hold my pee in public at all, because I never want anyone to now that I have to go. I'm a person who values private space very much and I will only hold pee when I'm at home. Also I only hold on to a certain point of time, not to that point where it is difficult to walk around and I have to push my muscles for the pee to come out, those are torture and I don't find enjoyment in it. In South Korea, bathrooms are a huge problem. Most of the bathrooms are really dirty and are asian-style, which means it isn't a typical toilet seat. It's sort of a hole in the ground where you have to squat and pee in. I despise men for being able to just aim and pee in those bathrooms. I vow to never use those kinds of bathrooms because they are ridiculously dirty and they offer no water spray (a hose for cleaning your privates in bathrooms, extremely common in asia and nonexistent in the US). Instead, they offer a little bowl in a small pool of water that you can fill with and clean yourself. I'm pretty sure that if you use that water you'll be even dirtier than you are before. Conventional bathrooms are offered usually in hotels and malls, but they aren't clean either. I have to put toilet paper around the seat if I want to pee there. My friends always make fun of me for always taking a long time in the bathroom because of this. Another thing to note is that there is sort of a campaign to save the earth or whatever so a lot of public bathrooms stopped offering toilet paper, so sometimes the spray is the only thing available. I started carrying my own napkins because of this. Sorry if this is pretty difficult to read, I am terrible at organizing my sentences but I hope you get a glimpse of what it's like for me in Korea. I intended to write about my experiences being on the verge of peeing myself but there's only enough time for this today. I'll come back soon enough to tell my stories. See you then ?
    2 points
  8. Version 1.0.0

    854 downloads

    Here are some more xvideo finds. Sorry for bad quality. Enjoy.
    Free
    2 points
  9. A glass of cat, please
    2 points
  10. posted 6 months ago, havnt seen it on here. Enjoy! ? https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph5b00eb799b411&t=0&utm_source=pornado.co&utm_medium=embed&utm_campaign=embed-logo-html5
    2 points
  11. Version 1.0.0

    1,285 downloads

    Second upload from my superheroine wetting videos obtained ? This one had to be my absolute favorite among all the videos I found. It had multiple wetting scenes and each of them are so good. For some reason, she's really good at wetting herself. Absolute marvel to watch. Watch for yourself! There is some nudity, sex, and some stimulation wetting as well, so be warned if that is something you dislike. If you want the full JAV, just let me know ? My uploads from now on will only have 1 to at most 3 JAV supercuts in each upload until my next Mega Compilation. So stay tuned for more ?
    Free
    2 points
  12. Version 1.0.0

    5,327 downloads

    This one's rather unique for an omorashi JAV in that it doesn't feature any wetTING. Rather, all of these women have already peed themselves and you get treated to the aftermath of their accidents. Behavior varies; some show signs of desperation, as if they're trying to hold back another wave, while others attempt to walk comfortably. Most try to hide their wet patches, which vary in size from hand-sized leaks to full-blown soakings. Some attempt damage control by wiping after getting a more secluded spot...like that'll help. If seeing actual wetting action is your deal breaker, this isn't your video. On the other hand, cutting out the wetting allows for more models (37!) in the same time frame as compared to JAVs with complete wetting scenes. This video's broken into 4 x ~30min parts.
    Free
    1 point
  13. OK, I promised that my next story would involve male-male comfort, but I lied. I'm sorry ? This was a request from granger Danger, so I thought I'd throw something together. I do have other ideas though, so I hope to get something else out before summer ends! *** Chase Richards flipped his head back, running his fingers through his thick, russet hair. It wasn’t so much a calculated move as a habit he’d developed after learning that his friends (peers? Cronies?) seemed to interpret the gesture in whatever way they thought best. It kept him from having to say too much. Chase wasn’t very good with words. Luckily for Chase, he didn’t often need words. He had the height, build, and looks that gave him a golden ticket to the good graces of others. Most teachers - and certainly most of his classmates – never pressed him on much of anything. Not schoolwork, not his behavior, and not whether he really deserved the level of popularity he enjoyed as a senior in high school. Chase didn’t think about his unearned popularity too much. At 18, he had a set of mannerisms that served him well – introspection wasn’t required. So when emotions or challenges presented themselves, he didn’t have a whole lot of practice reacting. And Chase’s reactions tended towards nastiness. It wasn’t that he was mean. He certainly didn’t intend to be mean. It was more that he’d never really gotten the hang of social humor or teasing, so when he tried to joke, it came out jerk. He didn’t mean it. He just…didn’t know what else to do. Like today. Chase really didn’t know what had gone wrong. Well, he did know, if he bothered to think about it. It was actually fairly straightforward, and it started and ended with Courtney Montell. Courtney was a junior – only a junior, Chase tried to remind himself – but she was captivating. She was confident and articulate, and Chase was entranced. Courtney was the student council treasurer, and with Homecoming approaching, she’d been spending a lot of time working with the senior class members of the council, including Chase’s friend Marco. Chase hadn’t thought twice about Marco. He was the student council president, so it was natural that Courtney would be around him a lot. He hadn’t thought about it much, but Chase had implicitly assumed that Courtney’s relationship with Marco was all business. Besides, Chase wasn’t one to consider the possibility that another guy could be with a girl he himself had already mentally claimed. So really, it was just that Chase had been caught off guard after lunch when he’d turned a corner in the hallway and seen Courtney kissing Marco. Chase’s jaw slackened and his head felt fuzzy, seeing the girl he liked making out with one of his best friends. Before Chase had time to process anything, Marco had broken off the kiss and turned down another hallway, winking at Courtney as he left. Courtney spun around, grinning to herself, and came face to face with a stunned Chase (who, it turned out, had been standing much closer to the couple than he’d realized). Courtney blinked once before composing herself. “Can I help you?” “If you’re gonna be kissing guys in hallways, I’ll take one.” Chase could feel the sneer creep onto his face but had no control over the curl of his lip. Courtney didn’t even bother to roll her eyes, further irritating Chase with her lack of response. She took a step forward, but he rammed his hand against the wall in front of her, blocking her with his arm. Still, Courtney didn’t flinch, though her heart rate sped up. No matter how much she believed that Chase was all bluster, being physically blocked by a 6’3”, 225-pound man was never going to be a comfortable situation. “Move, Chase.” Chase’s stomach fluttered. He knew the situation wasn’t going well, but he couldn’t stop himself. “Why? You weren’t in any hurry a minute ago,” he said, his voice dangerously approaching a growl. “That’s how time works, asshole,” Courtney snapped. Her eyes glittered with challenge, but she was trying to keep her voice from shaking. Chase barely heard her. He wanted Courtney, and somehow, in his socially underdeveloped mind, he was convinced that he could still have her, if she would just… “Come on, Court,” he rumbled, circling his other arm around her until she was backed up against the wall. “There’s no one here-“ “Stop!” Courtney shrieked, slapping Chase squarely across the cheek. “Mr. Richards! Miss Montell!” Mrs. Harker, the physics teacher, strode down from the other end of the hallway. “Back away from each other now!” she ordered. Chase took two giant steps backwards, his arms dropping limply by his sides. His cheek stung, but he barely felt it through the utter daze of the past minute. Courtney was fuming. “Mrs. Harker, he-“ “Detention for both of you,” Mrs. Harker interrupted sharply. “We have zero tolerance for physical violence at this school.” Courtney opened her mouth to argue, but Mrs. Harker cut her off. “I’m sorry, Miss Montell,” she said, more gently. “Detention is the consequence for violence, no matter what the context.” Mrs. Harker turned back to look at Chase. “3:15, both of you. Mr. Green will be supervising detention this afternoon in room 113. No excuses.” Glaring once more at Chase, Courtney strode away. The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch period, and the hallway filled with students, none of whom had the slightest idea what had just happened. Which more or less covers all of the important events that led to the current situation – Chase Richards, instead of taking out his car keys to drive home, was sullenly dawdling in front of his locker, unconsciously delaying having to face Courtney again in detention. “Chase Richards!” Mr. Green, the new freshman English teacher and today’s detention supervisor, was the kind of first-year teacher who chose to be overly strict to counteract his youth and assert his authority over the students. “Room 113, now!” Chase pulled his backpack from his locker and slung it over his shoulder. “I’m just gonna-“ Mr. Green cut him off with a glare. “No, you’re not ‘just gonna’,” he said derisively. “You have detention, and you are subject to the same rules as everyone else.” The teacher glared at Chase, not quite achieving the level of command that he wanted. “No matter what most of the other teachers here might thing,” he added sharply. Chase’s eyebrows knit in bemusement. He knew Green was a hardass, but it was just detention, and it wasn’t like Chase was trying to get out of it – he just wanted to go to the bathroom. Chase always went to the bathroom right after school, before going out to his car. It was just another one of his habits. It wasn’t that he had to go really bad or anything, but being denied the access made him realize just how full his bladder was. All of these thoughts proceeded rather slowly through Chase’s head, and by the time it occurred to him to ask Mr. Green to use the restroom real quick, the teacher had already started walking down the hallway to the dedicated detention room. Chase took long strides to catch up, but by the time he did, Mr. Green had reached the door of Room 113. Chase followed him in and opened his mouth to ask for a quick trip to the bathroom but stopped short when he saw Courtney sitting in the desk closest to the door. Chase’s mouth snapped shut and his request died in his throat. He’d already screwed up with Courtney once today; he couldn’t bear to ask to us the restroom in front of her. Flustered and still full, Chase put his head down and slunk to the back of the room, taking the sat in the corner farthest from the door – and farthest from Courtney. The digital clocked flipped to 3:15 – apparently, no other students had been given detention that day. “No phones, no electronics,” ordered Mr. Green by way of a greeting. “You will be released at 4:15, not one second earlier. You don’t have to do homework if you don’t want to, but you may not talk.” Chase shifted in his seat. He’d never been given detention before. He supposed the rules made sense, but he really wasn’t sure he could wait for an hour, especially without his phone to distract him. Still, he managed for the first fifteen minutes. Sitting in the back of the room definitely helped – he didn’t have to worry about Courtney looking at him, and he could squirm a little to try to keep his bladder comfortable without having to worry about being seen. At 3:30, though, Chase heard the buzzing of a phone. To his surprise, Mr. Green picked up his phone off the desk and glanced at the screen. “Stay here,” Mr. Green ordered needlessly. He’d apparently determined that the call was worth taking and stepped out into the hallway, closing the door behind him. The instant the door clicked shut, Courtney whirled around, glaring at Chase. He twitched under the intensity of her gaze; he had only been looking in that direction because of Mr. Green, but now it looked like he’d been staring at Courtney. She didn’t seem to care about Chase looking at her, though. “This is your fault,” she hissed, keeping her voice quiet but bitter. Chase’s face went blank. He knew that his interaction with Courtney hadn’t gone well, but she seemed…really mad. “You’re disgusting,” Courtney continued, her voice venomous. “You think you can just take whatever you want and never have any consequences.” Chase tensed reflexively. People just didn’t yell at him like that… “It was a joke,” he insisted dumbly, his attempt at levity coming out decidedly petulant. Courtney scoffed. “No woman in the world thinks that shit is funny.” Chase got a funny feeling in his stomach, beyond the fullness of his bladder. It was weird hearing a high school student refer to herself as a woman, but as soon as she said it, it made sense. She was a woman, and Chase felt like a little kid in front of her. A little kid who had to pee. Courtney seemed to sense his quailing. “Are we still in kindergarten, Chase?” she mocked. “You don’t know how to act around girls that you like, so you’re mean to them to get their attention?” Chase flushed red so quickly, his face was like a buzzer on a game show, lighting up to signal Courtney’s correct answer. She felt her own skin warm in response – confronting unreciprocated affection was never enjoyable. “Honestly, Chase –“ She was no longer snapping, but her voice still wasn’t friendly. “- it’s the 21st century. You don’t get to treat people – women - like shit and expect them to just be OK with it.” Chase was keeping his head very deliberately down at this point, both in embarrassment and because he was trying to curl over the desk. He felt so full, he was having a hard time keeping himself from squirming. As much as he didn’t want to have this conversation with Courtney (it was more of a monologue than a conversation, anyway), he really didn’t want her looking at him when he had to pee. Not one to skillfully manage unpleasant emotions, Chase reflexively settled into anger. “I don’t,” he grumbled. Courtney’s eyebrows drew together, projecting more incredulity than she actually felt. “You can’t possibly have so little self-awareness,” she derided. “You really do have the social skills of a five-year-old.” Blushing even more deeply, Chase scowled down at the desk. Being called a child twice in quick succession made his plight all the more painful. He flicked his eyes up at the clock and almost whined. There were still 40 minutes left in detention, and the combination of his full bladder and Courtney’s accusations made that 4-minute barrier seem impossibly long. The sound of the door opening made Chase look up. “No talking,” snapped Mr. Green before ducking back out into the hallway, phone still at his ear. Courtney had turned forward as soon as the door opened, but she threw another glare back at Chase before returning to her homework. Chase nearly sighed in relief. The deliberate lack of squirming over the past few minutes had heightened his need, and he had to thrust a hand between his legs to ease the desperation. He writhed and gripped for a few seconds to make himself feel better. A quick glance up at Courtney showed that she was diligently bent over her homework, paying him no mind. Exhaling slowly, Chase released he hand. The immediacy of the last surge had abated, but his heart was still beating hard. For a second, he thought of getting up and going to the bathroom, but that idea didn’t last long. For one, Mr. Green would almost certainly yell at him as soon as he stepped in the hallway. And he didn’t want to give Courtney another reason to scorn him. He’d just have to wait it out. Just over a half hour now, and as long as Courtney wasn’t looking at him, he could shift and wriggle freely. For the next 15 minutes or so, Chase did just that. He even crossed his long legs, which he hated doing, but the relief was too good to pass up. Unfortunately, even that tactic didn’t help for long. Chase’s body had been well trained to use the bathroom after school and being made to wait an hour to release and entire day’s worth of urine wasn’t something he was prepared for. Forced to physically hold himself again, Chase’s breathing became shallow. Unconsciously, he started shifting arrhythmically, twitching back and forth and kneading his dick between his legs. “Shh!” A sharp hiss from Courtney caught Chase off guard, and he felt a hot spurt of pee soak into his underwear. He looked up anxiously just in time to see Courtney turning back to her homework, a disgusted look on her face. Chase bit his lip to keep from whining audibly. He was clutching himself to the point of pain, but the dampness against his skin was breaking down his already-weak defenses. He remained curled over the desktop, tensing seemingly every single muscle in his body, trying to keep himself from having an accident through brute force. He couldn’t move to look at the clock, which was probably a good thing, because the clock would’ve told him that there were still 10 minutes left. And Chase didn’t have 10 minutes. Chase didn’t have 10 seconds. A painful surge rippled through Chase’s lower body, and a strong stream burst out of him, soaking right through his boxers and into his jeans. Chase grunted unwillingly, but his muscles were worn out and ill-prepared for such consistent tensing. Futilely, Chase kept his hand between his legs, but it was all over. He was wetting himself. Time seemed to slow down and speed up simultaneously, and Chase, if he’d been able to think or feel at all, would’ve felt like he was in a dream. The sensation of peeing into his jeans, while sitting at a desk, in a classroom, was so utterly foreign that the entire situation felt surreal to the point of unbelievability. Chase’s chest heaved with uneven breaths. Piss pooled briefly on the desk seat under him before spilling onto the floor. In the front of the classroom, Courtney was distracted by the unfamiliar sound. She whipped around to demand silence from Chase once again, but her face quickly melted from irritation into disbelief. Courtney was a smart girl, but it took her several seconds to puzzle together the scene in front of her. The sound she heard was the trickling of liquid from the seat of the desk onto the tile floor. Chase’s large body was hunched over the small desk; his shoulders rose and fell with deep, shaky breaths. A puddle was growing still growing across the floor underneath him. There was only one explanation for what she was seeing, but Courtney’s mind refused to accept the obvious. There was no way a senior in high school could be having an accident at school. Chase still didn’t look up. For once, he was completely unaware of Courtney, even as she cautiously stood and walked toward the back of the room. “Chase?” Chase jerked slightly, indicating that he heard her, but he kept his head forcefully down, as if he was trying to bore a hole into his sternum with his chin. Torn between pity and skepticism, Courtney lowered herself into the desk diagonally in front of Chase. She looked down to make her she wasn’t stepping in his puddle – it was big, but not quite spread in her direction. She looked back up at the cowering 18-year-old. The tension had melted out of his body, signaling that his accident was finished, but now, he was slumped so severely in his desk, Courtney wondered how he stayed in the desk at all. “Chase…” she repeated, not really knowing what she was trying to make happen. Awkward with words under the best of circumstances, Chase was rendered completely mute. His face remained down, and a single tear dripped off his cheek onto the desk. His throat strained with the effort of holding back actual sobs. They stayed in silence for a few minutes, Courtney unwilling to speak and Chase unable. The sound of the door opening shocked Courtney into turning around. Mr. Green was still on the phone, but he distractedly waved into the room. “You can go.” Courtney attempted a weak smile, but Mr. Green had already left, having not seen or not cared what had happened in the back of the classroom. Exhaling deeply, Courtney looked back at Chase, but he hadn’t moved. She straightened her shoulders. “Come on, Chase.” No response. “Mr. Green is gone. No one will see you.” Nothing. Courtney pressed her lips together. “Chase, come on. You can’t stay here forever.” Chase shifted uncomfortably, but still didn’t look up. God, thought Courtney. He really was a child, and she didn’t have a whole lot of patience for man-children. “What’s your plan, then? Just gonna stay here until morning? Or until the janitor gets here to clean up after you?” The last comment was a bit harsh, but Courtney wasn’t here to mother the boy who’d put her in detention in the first place. Instead of getting defensive, though, Chase raised his head slowly. His eyes were glazed with tears, and his face was completely guileless. Having an accident as a senior in high school was an objectively vulnerable situation to begin with, but Chase’s face underscored just how exposed he was. Sighing, Courtney dropped her shoulders. Yes, Chase was a child – he was self-centered and lacked self-awareness – but he was also clueless and seemingly unable to take care of himself in tough situations. Courtney mentally cursed all of the adults who had let Chase reach the age of 18 with so few life skills. She made a quick series of mental decisions. Chase had already dropped his gaze again, nervous and ashamed. “Get up, Chase,” Courtney ordered. “Grab your backpack. We’re leaving.” Chase looked up again, blinking in confusion. “You can’t stay here, and I don’t want to,” Courtney explained (even though this wasn’t really something that should require an explanation) “Get your keys, go home, and change.” Chase shuddered. Courtney’s words had drawn him back to reality, just enough to remind him that he was, in fact, 18 years old, and couldn’t just sit and wait for someone to take care of him like an infant. Even though he’d just peed his pants like one. He still couldn’t bear to look at Courtney for very long, but Chase slowly unfolded himself out of the desk. His jeans hung heavy between his legs, and he paused for a second, staring reluctantly at the puddle beneath the desk. “The janitor will clean it up,” Courtney promised, her voice softer than it had been all afternoon. “No one will know it was you.” In the great crush of emotions from the past hour, Chase had now settled on being disgusted with himself. He scowled as he grabbed his backpack, still keeping his gaze averted from Courtney as he trudged to the front of the room. Courtney, supposing that movement was better than nothing, followed. At the door, Chase stuck his head out in the hallway, checking to make sure no one was around to see the obvious evidence of his accident. Seeing that the coast was clear, he took a deep breath and prepared to head out to his car. Before he took a step, he hesitated. “Thank you,” he mumbled back over his shoulder, his voice gruff and strained. He didn’t wait for Courtney’s response. He couldn’t stand her revulsion or her pity, though he knew he deserved both. Later tonight, perhaps, he’d have time to actually think about the terrible events of the day – the hallway, detention, and actually peeing on himself in front of the girl he liked - and the truth behind Courtney’s chastisement. But for now, he just had to get home and take a shower.
    1 point
  14. First time story poster here! This is actually a multi-part story I wrote for a now inactive user named Rick Dixon. He disappeared before I could send him the final copy, but he had previously given his permission to post it here and make the changes to it that I'm going to make. Hope you all enjoy! ---------- "Darla stop fidgeting your legs like that. You look like a little kid who has to go potty," Darla's mom said, giving her a judgemental look as she took a sip of her coffee. "Ew Mom, that's gross," Darla replied, suddenly aware of how obviously she had been jiggling her legs and making an effort to hold them still. "Its just the caffeine from the coffee making me antsy." "Be that as it may, try not to embarrass me in front of your uncle's family. He was nice enough to invite us to this luncheon with all his neighbors. There's even some cute boys here. You'd hate to have an accident in front of a potential boyfriend." "Mom I don't have to pee, just drop it ok?" Darla than took a sip of her own coffee to try and seem casual, a sip which she immediately regretted as the liquid seemed to speed straight to her bladder. Despite her protests to the contrary, Darla did have to pee. Quite desperately in fact. She didn't know her cousins or their neighbors that well, so when she and her mother arrived she had mainly stayed with her, sipping coffee or wine and chit chatting about nothing in particular. Darla had even had a mild urge to pee when they first arrived several hours ago, but had thought it no problem and figured she could hold it until they left. She had always been a little shy about using a stranger's bathroom. Darla thought she'd still be fine if it hadn't been for when her mother had stepped away to gossip with Darla's aunt, leaving Darla alone at the table to drink two cups of coffee rather than make awkward small talk with strangers. Well that coffee, along with the the glass of wine and a coffee when they first arrived and the two coffees since then were now demanding to be released and Darla wasn't sure how much longer she could put off a trip to the bathroom. ---------- Blake had been friends with Darla's cousin John since they were in middle school, close enough that they were practically brothers and despite living several miles away now he had still been invited to her Uncle's luncheon. John would often joke that he and Blake knew everything about each other, which amused Blake because there was one thing John certainly did not know: that Blake had a major pee fetish. All his life, ever since puberty he had found himself deeply aroused by the thought of a woman having a full on accident in public, humiliating herself for all to see. While he had watched a lot of porn, he had never seen an accident in person, and he was becoming quite desperate to, even going so far to have a basic plan for what to do if he saw signs of desperation from a hot girl at a party like this. He had high hopes he would get to use that plan today because he had seen Darla bouncing her legs up and down and suspected he knew why. He hadn't seen her use the restroom yet, and he had seen her drink plenty. From where he sat he could take in the full sight of her. Shoulder length dark brown hair worn behind her ears to show off her tan complexion. A body that showed she was in shape but not intimidatingly so. Perky, full sized breasts that showed a respectable amount of cleavage under her green tank top. Tight tan pants that had showcased her full sized butt perfectly when she had walked to get more coffee. Designer flip flops that bounced up and down as her leg began to jiggle again. "Oh yes," Blake thought, "she's got to go bad." Suddenly he saw her stand up, and once she had stepped away from her table he watched her give a frantic look around the room before biting her lip and walking towards the front of the house; the opposite direction from the bathroom. "Now or never," Blake muttered, ready to put his plan into action. He set off after her, making sure to swing by the bathroom and get things prepared first. ---------- Darla had only just noticed her leg jiggling again when suddenly a quick bladder spasm caused her to suck in her breath and clench her bladder muscles tight. "This is bad," she thought. "I need to pee now before I have an accident in these pants. Ooo I wish I'd worn the black ones instead." She pushed her chair back from the table and stood up, barely resisting the urge to grab her crotch like a preschooler. "Mom I'm going to go take a walk around the house, see if I can spot one of those cute guys you mentioned." She gave her mother a cute smile which earned her a nod of approval, then began to make her way towards the exit. After she had taken several paces and put at least two tables between herself and her mother she allowed herself a quick squeeze of her crotch from a hand she stuck in her pocket. Luckily most people in the dining room seemed too engrossed in conversation to notice her. She bit her lip as she frantically looked around, trying to decide where in her Uncle's estate the bathroom was. This was getting bad. Already she could feel a second spasm coming just from the few steps she had taken. "Think Darla, where would it be? Gotta be by the front door right?" Giving herself a second squeeze and leaving her hand in her pocket just in case, Darla set off for the front of the house. Reaching the entryway, Darla hurried to the only door she found, desperate for relief. Twice more on the walk here she had had to grab her crotch in order to prevent any leaks, the spasms becoming increasingly insistent. She had a hard timestanding still as she reached for the door knob. "Thank God," she muttered as she threw open the door. Her joy turned to anguish in an instant though at what she found: a coat closet. "Shit!" she exclaimed, her hands flying down to her crotch as the most powerful spasm yet rocked her body. She clenched with all her might, but even then a brief squirt escaped into her thong underwear. Tears began to form in her eyes. "No please no," she muttered, "please don't let me wet my panties, not here, not now!" ---------- Blake silently moved into the entryway, relieved to see Darla still there and squirming through a major potty dance. He had hoped she wouldn't have moved on, but it had taken him longer than he had expected to convince John's mother that her makeup was running and she needed to reapply in the only downstairs bathroom. "As much warpaint as she puts on," he thought, "she should buy me 20 minutes easy." At the time he had hoped that was enough, but seeing the state Darla was in he knew it was plenty. He was still trying to figure out how to approach her when suddenly he heard her start muttering, pleading with some higher power to help her not wet her panties. He took that as an acceptable cue. ---------- "I'm sorry for intruding, is everything ok ma'am?" Blake asked. Darla nearly jumped out of her skin at his sudden appearance, immediately bending at the waist and clutching her crotch for dear life as she did so. Luckily she didn't think she squirted this time. Turning, she saw Blake standing there in black jeans and a red button up shirt. Her face turned beat red. "Oh um yes, everything, everything is fine," she said, badly trying to seem casual as she squirmed and grasped herself in the entryway. "I was just looking for the..." "The toilet? It is actually on the other side of the house, sorry. Would you like me to show you?" Darla's face turned even more red, stinging tears returning to her eyes. Here she was a 26 year old woman holding herself like a three year old in front of this handsome stranger who was offering to show her to the toilet like she was a kid. "Just directions are fine, thanks." Darla was barely able to keep the shake out of her voice. "You sure, it's no trouble at all. I know how confusing this house can get," Blake replied with a chuckle. "I'm sure," Darla nearly snapped, as her desperation overwhelmed her embarrassment and decorum momentarily. "Ok, my apologies, you're clearly in some distress. Just go down this hallway and turn right before the dining room. Take your second left and the bathroom is the third door on the right. Figured you'd want a path that avoided the crowd," he said with a wink. "Thank you," Darla replied, having managed to regain at least a semblance of control. She shakily walked out of the entryway, managing to resist the nearly overpowering urge to hold herself as she did so. As she made her way down the hall and out of his sight she stopped resisting, her right hand darting into her crotch and holding on for all it was worth while her left she used for balance as she tried to keep her legs as tightly pressed together as possible. The crotch of her thong still felt wet from her quick burst, but nothing felt like it was showing on the outside of her pants. She silently prayed that that brief leak into her panties would be the only one. Inside her bladder felt like it was turning into a small boulder, rock hard against her waistband as the liquid within demanded release.
    1 point
  15. In this naughty pissing video Sosha intentionally pees in her jeans in a public restroom, recording it all with her phone for us to watch. This video comes to us directly from Sosha, who filmed it herself on her phone. Needing to pee, she stops by a public bathroom but isn’t content to simply use the toilet like one typically would do. Instead, she enters a stall, sets up her phone so it is pointing at her, and intentionally pees in her jeans. After wetting her pants, she shows them off to the camera. She then proceeds to change into dry clothes and leaves the stall.
    1 point
  16. When I first came here some three years ago, it was for the desperation, and not the wetting. Then I discovered wetting and got really into that. I still found diapers weird and wasn't really into that, but after a while I started to warm up to that idea, too. Then, a year or so ago, I found a mod for The Sims 4 that enabled all sims to wear and go in diapers, not just toddlers, and I created the character of Rosa in the game. And so, this story was born. Hope someone will enjoy it. I'm not a huge fan of messing, but this story will contain small amounts of it in a mostly non-sexual context. There will be some swearing, and a fair amount of smut. This story isn't a huge priority, and I don't know exactly how long it will be, but it'll probably go on for a while. PROLOGUE It was the cold that woke her. It always was. The way her pyjamas clung to her skin, clammy and wet, the damp sheets under her turning chilly in the night air from the open window. It took her a few moments to realise why she was cold and wet, but this was the third time this week, so it didn’t take long. Once she did realise, she let out a long wail, tears beginning to spill from her eyes. The door opened, light spilling in from the hall. ‘What is it now?’ said her mother’s tired voice. Rosa pulled her blanket up to her chin and sobbed. ‘I . . . I wet the bed,’ she whispered. Her mother sighed audibly. ‘Again? How many times does that make this month?’ Rosa didn’t answer. She tried to swallow her tears, stop the sobbing. ‘Come on, stop that.’ Her mother stretched out a hand. ‘Get up, honey.’ Rosie grabbed her stuffed unicorn by the ear and crawled out of bed, leaving cold, wet sheets behind. ‘No, leave the unicorn here.’ She did as she was told, dropping Uni on the floor, whispering a soft, ‘Sorry.’ She didn’t think Uni had gotten any pee on her. That was good. It was her favourite toy. Her grandmother had given it to her. She took her mother’s hand, and was marched to the bathroom. She saw herself in the mirror while her mother undressed her. A chubby six-year-old with red pigtails and a smattering of freckles across her little nose. Her hazel eyes were red and puffy, and she sniffed. ‘This has to stop,’ said her mother sternly. ‘You’re six! Too old to be pissing yourself every other night.’ Rosa felt the tears begin to come again. ‘I’m sorry!’ she whined. ‘Stop that!’ Her mother sounded angry, and she grabbed her by the shoulders and gave a little shake. ‘You’re too old to be blubbering like that too!’ Rosa tried to stop, she really did, but instead she began to cry harder. ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake!’ Rosa’s mother pulled the wet pyjamas off her daughter. ‘Shut up!’ When Rosie didn’t, she slapped her face, and when that didn’t help, she sat down on the toilet, put her child over her knee and spanked her little bottom. Not hard. She just wanted to shock the screaming child into silence, and it worked. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said afterwards, but she sounded indifferent. ‘It’s just not very mature of you to go on blubbering like that when I’m trying to talk to you!’ She got a washcloth out of the cupboard under the sink and filled the sink with warm water and soap. ‘Here,’ she said, handing Rosie the washcloth. ‘Clean yourself up while I change your sheets. Thank God I bought that plastic cover for the mattress . . .’ The next time Rosa wet the bed, she didn’t cry. She stayed in her wet pyjamas and her wet bed until morning, and the following night there was a disposable sheet on her bed, and her mother put her in a diaper for the first time since she was three.
    1 point
  17. Pulled over at a local park where the portapotty was occupied and I immediately lost control only to barely make it home and pee my pants again trying to go inside! My poor boots and socks were so drenched! Wait til you see how much pee comes out of them!! It's crazy!! https://clips4sale.com/131081/wet-scarlet/cide25d1c4a2117a5e3c0e2fb569c
    1 point
  18. Hi everyone! Its me, Kozmo! This isn't the next part of Lotto, rather this is an experience I had the other day coming home, due to an unfortunate misunderstanding I had with both my own brain and my scheduling. This will likely be a shorter one, due to the fact that it wasn't really planned out like a lot of my stuff, it just happened due to circumstance. Basically I was at my friends apartment, and had been there since the previous evening. There were a few of us and we had a few drinks. I was in a basic getup, black tank top, denim short shorts, black knee highs, and black and red lacy undergarments. My hair was tied up in a ponytail so I actually got to show off most of my tats, including the one on my upper back. Hardly any of the stuff that happened while I was there actually matters, it was just a lot of alcohol and video games. The things that really matter are as follows 1. I wanted to go home that evening. We had gotten pretty sloshed the previous evening, so this was the wind-down day. To get home from my friends house, I to walk a few blocks to a bus stop, and then ride two busses to get home, with the total ride taking well over an hour, just because I live in an inconvenient spot for bus routes. 2. I wanted to be lewd when I got home. When I get drunk, I get lewd. (Some people take advantage of that and it makes me sad when I wake up the next day but this is not one of those days.) When I get lewd, I usually think about omo. Because my lewdness involves omo, I drink more, which gives me more alcohol sometimes, which makes me lewder, meaning more omo, more drinking, you get the idea. Therefore, my idea was for lewd omo things when I had gotten home, and I had already started filling myself up very substantially with wine and beer looong before I was even due to leave. And perhaps the most important part that you should know heading into this 3. Is that I got the fucking bus schedule wrong. As finicky as I am regarding just about everything in my life, you'd think I'd get that much right. I normally use google maps to double check arrival times, but remember how I posted that status the other day about how I ran out of data? Yeah. I thought it came every hour to that specific spot, :45 on the dot. Turns out there's an hour it skips, for whatever reason. So I leave the apartment, mildly buzzed and needing to pee like you wouldn't believe. I walk my walk, savoring the feeling of the waistband pushing into my bladder, stopping every little bit to knock my knees a little. I had to pee. Emphasis. I thought I had this perfectly timed. By the time I'd get home, I'd be extremely close to bursting, and I could savor the fun. I did make it to the bus stop eventually. I sat down, crossed my legs. I hopped on a discord voicechat via the wifi at the cafe across the street with some friends and tried not to let my voice tremble. The bus would be here in 5 minutes after all. Except it wasn't. And I panicked. Oh BOY did I panic. I almost aborted right there. Almost. But I'm me, and you know how I work. Half of my brain screamed abort, find bathroom. The other half screamed, CHALLENGE ACCEPTED. So I checked google maps, now that I had a wifi spot, and that was when I discovered the bus in question would not arrive for another hour. The duel voices screaming ABORT and CHALLENGE ACCEPTED intensified, and the latter won out. I went to said cafe, sat down outside, and waited. And waited. And trembled and tried not to desperately moan into my earbuds mic on discord. And waited. And then walked to Burger King because I wanted spicy nuggs. Which I got a drink with, because I'm ME. Then I went back and waited some more. It was at this point I was doubting my ability to hold it. I mean yeah I was desperate to pee beforehand, but this was like, advanced desperation. The end might be near desperation. Uncertainty setting in desperation. You know what I mean? I finished my nuggs and my drink and I went back to the bus stop. My walking was as if it was on eggshells, and I was starting to sweat from the effort of holding it. I wanted immediately to be able to sit back down, but luckily I was still in that voice chat so I was able to keep my mind off it at least a little. Then the bus came. I saw it and my brain ticked that my journey home was actually beginning! And I leaked! Shit. I felt a substantial spurt fire out of me almost simultaneously the second my brain registered joy. I didn't have to look to know the denim had been darkened between my legs. But I was at a bus stop. There was people on the bus, there was people getting ON the bus, I sure as hell wasn't going to make a show of guessing. I just got on the bus, kept my legs together as I could keep them, and sat right in the front by myself, and just kept my eyes on my knees, a bead of sweat trailing down my head. I didn't have discord to keep me occupied anymore as I was leaving wifi, and now I was surrounded by people. But I wasn't going to lose it on the bus. I was not. I'm a very eyes on the prize girl. I sat there, I rubbed my legs together, held my purse on my lap, wiggled around, the full half an hour until I had to transfer busses. The bus that was not at the transfer yet. Fuck me, right? So now I'm standing outside on the bus stop, most people have filed out. Mines the last bus out, and my neighbourhood is the last stop. Remember what I said about inconvenient bussing? It actually takes me fucking forever to get anywhere from home, and then back home. Good thing I'm a couch potato. Its cold outside, because now its dark out, good ol' nighttime, and I'm standing on a main street just about to pee my shorts. The reality of that hit me pretty hard, and I leaked again. Not a lil leak. A my face went immediately pale because that's really fucking visible leak. I felt a gush push out of me, soak my underwear, the crotch of my shorts, and trail down my thigh, off my knee, and patter on the ground. I almost lost it right then and there out of the panic that ensued. But eyes on the prize. Its dark, nobody can see. I'm good. You'd think it would be a relief, but honestly it made my need to pee a billion times worse. I held my purse in front of me and dug my hand into that obvious area between my legs as hard as I could. Hold it, hold it, hold it. The bus did eventually arrive, and I went in that side door they have and planted myself in the back left corner. Half an hour left. And boy was that half an hour, I dribbled a bit just about every bump we hit and had to bite my finger to keep from automatically mewling. It sucks being a vocal-while-desperate person when the desperation is in public. This may not seem like much, but our roads suuuuuuuck. Though, I think the fact that it was just dribbles saved my clothes a fair deal, or at least prevented a mess on the seat. I'm not versed in how fabric saturation works, but maybe someone here is. I just figured a looot of dribbles is better than 3 or 4 massive leaks. Eventually we pulled up to my neighbourhood and I got off at my street. I stood there until the bus left, to make sure there was no prying eyes. Walking up my street was torture, because I KNEW I was there. I just had to make this final trek. Step, leak. Step, leak. Step, leak. It was like my foot steps were those pedals you push with your foot on those outdoor sinks at festivals. They weren't huge leaks, but by the time I got to my doorstep my shorts were very wet, front and back. I had glistening streaks all down the back of my legs, and my kneesocks were damp. There was no denying that I had, essentially, very much peed my pants. It was at this point I experienced a phenomenon I read about a lot on the site, but had yet to experience. A literal key-in-latch wetting. I hobbled up my steps, and stuck my key in my front door. It was instant. My brain clicked that I was home. The key in the lock was symbolic. Before I could even turn it, I completely lost control, moaning loudly as I started pissing myself. My shorts literally could not contain it, it poured down both legs and a constant stream straight to the ground between them. I was home safe essentially and the relief was way too much, I fell forward with my head against the glass on my doors window, continuing to let out little gasps as I created a river that poured down my steps. Shorts, socks, shoes, all were beyond saving. I finished emptying myself after awhile, and just kind of stood there, marveling in what had just happened. I was so loopy from the relief I forgot to turn the key and walked into my door trying to push it in. I could hear my shoes squelch. I got in, peeled off my clothes right on my doormat, wiped down my legs with whatever dry part I could find of my shorts so I wouldnt leave a trail on my floor, and hobbled weak-kneed down to my room to enjoy the rest of my evening. I had a lot of free time now, as I had gotten my lewd omo fun I wanted out of the way sooner rather than later. It was a very enjoyable experience, and I hope the rest of you enjoy it as much as I did~ I love you all ❤️
    1 point
  19. Two hour drive turned into TWO complete SOAKINGS!! After completely losing control at the rest stop in front of other people I got back into my car and right before going inside I lost it all over AGAIN! Looking at this picture you'd never believe I did this twice! I'm not even sure how I fit all that pee in my bladder! https://clips4sale.com/131081/wet-scarlet/cide25d1c4a2117a5e3c0e2fb569c
    1 point
  20. These are new to me! https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph597e41dce1720 https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph598f5f865673f https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph596cbce6cb344 https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph587f990434f0c https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph5b68ddd50bb88 https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph5b6e3f8285032 https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph5b68ddd500f63 https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph5bb4cdf5bc43e https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph5ad8f0488ddde https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph5b8cdbd51a5b3 https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph5b1c29e8b6101 https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph5acf9ec2cba96 https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph5b664b117ed87 https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph5b365b1fefcab https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph5af2035c60089 https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph5bff08b1c60dd https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph5bd8950bc3345 https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph5bd8ae1cdd194
    1 point
  21. Here is a sexy new porn hub video i found. https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph5c01f30851acb Stripping and then Full Bladder Pee - Pornhub.com.mp4
    1 point
  22. Most definitely 2,3,and 4 Number 1 ?
    1 point
  23. Version 1.0.0

    1,313 downloads

    I had almost given up on trying to find this oldie, but here it is now! 15 girls having wetting accidents in the park, some with a bit of poop. A mix of jeans, pants, shorts, and skirts. The curvy one wearing tight white ankle capris gets an honorable mention. JAV code in image.
    Free
    1 point
  24. Many times I've been desperate in public to the point where I can't stand still. Often it's because I've deliberately gone out to be desperate in public. In my experience it's very rare for anyone to comment on it or even notice, but it has happened a couple of times. Once, a few years ago, I was driving, maybe 20 miles from home, and I was bursting to pee. It was late evening. I stopped at a supermarket somewhere on the edge of a town. The supermarket itself was closed, but its petrol station was still open. So I pulled in. At the time I was a bit shy about just going in and asking if they had a toilet, so I parked up next to the petrol pump and started filling the tank, hoping there would be a toilet inside the kiosk, while squirming and crossing my legs. When I finished filling the tank and went in to pay, I couldn't immediately see a customer toilet. I didn't want to look like I was looking for one though, so I just walked up to the counter. There were two women behind the counter, maybe in their 30s or 40s, who were smiling as I came in and seemed to have shared a joke just before. While I was paying with my card, I couldn't stand still. I was trying to act casual but it wasn't really working - I was bobbing up and down and standing with my legs tightly crossed. One of the women was looking down at my legs and smiling. I caught her eye and smiled back, thinking that she probably knew I was bursting but that she wouldn't say anything. For a moment I thought she might instead have been looking at my jeans. Often I wear women's clothes if I'm going out and won't meet anyone I know, and here I was wearing some very tight, light-blue, women's skinny jeans. Then she said "Are you okay? Do you need the loo?" I felt myself blush bright red, and said "is it obvious?" with a nervous laugh. The other woman offered to let me use the staff toilet, and I said "yeah, I could do with going to the loo..." which was a huge understatement! I used the staff toilet and came out very, very relieved! The staff member who let me use the toilet kept staring at my women's jeans as I walked past... I just smiled and thanked her, but I was pretty embarrassed by the whole thing! Another time, just a year or two ago, I was at a railway station, again bursting for the loo. By this time I'd lost most of my shyness about letting other people know I needed to go. I tried the toilet door on the platform, but it was locked. It was only a small local station, and they lock the toilets in the evening. An older woman on the opposite platform - the platform for the train I was waiting for - saw me try the door and called over, quite loudly, to ask if I needed the loo. Of course I replied that I did. She suggested I go in an alleyway somewhere, because there weren't any toilets anywhere nearby, but I said that I was okay, I'd just wait for the train, and crossed over the footbridge and sat on the bench on that platform. Again, I was wearing tight women's skinny jeans. I didn't think I looked that desperate, but I was crossing my legs and bouncing my leg up and down. The woman came over to me and offered me her empty drinks bottle ("it's not good for you to hold it... go round the corner and do it in this if you want, I won't look..."). That was quite embarrassing, but even so, the pressure in my bladder tempted me to try it. Nevertheless I declined, saying I'd just wait and use the toilets on the train, it's only 10 minutes or so. In reality I was really desperate and thought I might have to spurt in my jeans before too long. We chatted for a while until the train came, and I was getting more and more desperate, and she obviously knew it. She was very nice about it, I think she just found the situation funny. Eventually the train arrived, and I darted in, found a loo which was luckily open, and had a much-needed pee. I'd spurted in my jeans a little, and it wasn't too noticeable. When I came out I sat down opposite her. She asked if I'd found a loo, I said that I had, but I don't think she noticed my wet jeans. Again it was quite an embarrassing experience at the time, but now I quite like looking back on it.
    1 point
  25. A large crowd had already gathered in the wing of the cathedral which held its confessionals by the time Anna’s family had made their way over. Fortunately, the clergy appeared to have anticipated this, and several parish priests came forward to staff each of the austere wooden booths. Even so, the sight of the lines now forming before her seemed to thicken the air in Anna’s throat and amplify the rush of blood in her head. She closed her eyes. The journey into town had been long that morning, starting well before sunrise. It was a grand occasion - the bishop had finally returned with news of the new doctrines laid out for the faithful at the recent Lateran Council in Rome. Families had come from all corners of the countryside to hear him speak. Anna's family had joined the procession of nearly everyone in their village, save the old and sick, making their way to the cathedral. Unfortunately, being caught in the midst of this crowded caravan for several hours meant that she had not had a chance to relieve herself since leaving home. Though she had seen other girls dashing brazenly off to squat in the high grass of the moor beside the road, she was much too shy to do the same. And in any case, it had not been so pressing then. The line was moving glacially. Anna realized that one of her legs had been rocking and stopped it, her cheeks growing red. She shot furtive glances at the faces of her family around her, but saw no sign that they had noticed anything yet. She returned her gaze to the penitents ahead. One of the more interesting edicts of the day was one which demanded all Christians confess every unabsolved sin they had ever committed before the clergy. Considering the spans of time they spent in the gaunt little rooms, the congregants had a mixed understanding of the meaning of this. Why, Anna mused, did it seem that the most pious among them had the most guilt to unload from their souls? The conscience can be cruel, she reflected. The more fervently one seeks to appease it, the more outrageous its demands become. Her family was quiet. Her father had suggested that they use the time to plan out their confessions. Anna found it difficult to concentrate. She was struggling to keep the urgency of her needs from showing, and every time she began to catalog her sins, her recollection was broken by a new pang of desperation. She stared at the confessional, still a few heads beyond her. When I get inside, she thought, I’ll be hidden, I can hold myself and take a breath and then regain my composure before I come out. It won’t be long now… “Don’t you worry, dear!” A heavy hand came down on Anna’s shoulder, startling her. She jolted and swung around to find the wrinkled face of her mother just behind her. “I know it’s not easy at your age to go about telling your secrets, but remember that God's forgiven worse than the likes of you before!” The old woman chuckled to herself and gave her daughter a reassuring grin before returning to her own examination of conscience. Anna’s heart pounded. Was it her imagination or was there a slight warmth spreading through her undergarments? Had that small surprise been enough to surpass her self-control? Not daring to look down and risk drawing attention to herself should there be anything to see, she clasped her hands in front of her and slowly pressed them against her crotch. Her fingers felt slick. Anna was paralyzed for a moment before she realized that the top of her hands too were moist. They’re covered in sweat. But she had to be sure. Using every bit of willpower to keep her movements steady, Anna raised her locked hands to her chest and looked down solemnly, hoping the gesture would be taken by any onlookers for prayer. They would not be wrong. O Lord, have mercy, don’t let me wet myself now… Nothing was visible from the outside, thankfully. She let out a soft sigh of relief. “Anna dear,” Her mother again. Her younger sister was walking back from the booth, which now stood open before her. Trembling, Anna entered the confessional, still praying silently that she could hold out just a little longer. The moment the heavy door was shut behind her she fell to her knees and grabbed herself with both hands, inadvertently letting a quiet moan leave her lips as she felt her pussy swell with the pressure. In the dim light filtering through the doorway, she could make out a cross hanging on the wall before her. To her right was a small grated window to the priest’s adjoining cell. "I make confession to God,” she began nervously, "and to my Lady Mary, and to you, sir priest - ” Anna's voice broke abruptly as a light spurt escaped her. It was unmistakable this time, and she had to fight to regain control. She gripped herself harder, pulling her dress tightly around her waist as her fingers pushed firmly through its fine cloth. As she did she felt a new sensation, a growing pleasure which was certainly new but not altogether distinct from the throbbing of her bladder. An awful silence passed, the priest waiting for her to continue, Anna too terrified to think of anything but holding herself. Finally, the priest spoke: “May I suggest recalling the last time you confessed your sins to God?” It was an imperative, not an invitation. To her horror, Anna recognized the gruff voice as that of her own parish priest. Would he recognize hers? “T’was in the spring, on the first Sunday of Lent.” This was true, and it was incriminating, but Anna dared not lie in this holiest of places. To sin even as she asked for reconciliation would surely provoke God’s indignation. “Then let us start with the sins committed on Lent's first Monday.” Anna tried again to concentrate on this impossible recollection when she felt her desperation build suddenly, a new pressure mounting from her bladder. Panic was setting in in earnest now. I can't, she thought, God would not let me humiliate myself here, any moment He’ll save me, He must, I only need to hold it until then. Maybe this will be like the story of Abraham and Isaac, maybe God will only intervene just as I abandon myself to doing the unthinkable… Another spurt came out, hissing into the bunched-up fabric of her dress. Anna felt heat against her hands this time. A tiny trickle made its way down the inside of her thigh, and she pressed her legs together to stop it from reaching the floor. She was beginning to feel very alone. Eli eli, lama sabachthani? Despite the momentary release, the intensity of the need inside her did not let up. Instead, the hot wetness of the undergarments clinging to her pussy quickened the weakening of her body and her willpower. Anna clutched herself with as much force as her quivering hands could give, rubbing through the soft wet cloth to push back the flood for just another second. As she did so she realized that the feeling it produced seemed to ease the pressure of her bladder. Seizing on this, she started to rub faster, savoring the sweet relief that now swept in waves through her body. “I understand that the discipline of self-examination does not come easily to all…” The stern voice from the other cell pierced her through a haze of pulsating pleasure. The priest continued, now with a softer tone: “Allow me then to help you see yourself in the Lord’s mirror, in which nothing is hidden, in which all that would be kept in darkness is exposed to His light.” Anna bit her lip as her mind was pulled back to where she was, bent over and kneeling with her knees pressed together in her tiny room. Dozens of people waited outside, and one man sat just an arm’s length away, separated by only a thin wooden wall. Frantically she tried to regain her rhythm but the motions of her hands became nervous and erratic. “Perhaps it is best to begin with the longings of the flesh. For as St. Augustine teaches, the body is the soul’s first gateway to sin, and salvation is denied to those whose souls place the will of the flesh above the will of the spirit.” Tears welled in Anna's eyes as he said this, and the shame of what she was doing became unbearable. She forced herself to stop rubbing. The aching of her bladder returned painfully, but now for a renewed fear of God she dared not resist one of her body's longings only by giving in to another. “Can you confess that you are familiar with the longings of the flesh?” The priest’s voice had grown louder, his tone higher. “I… I confess”, Anna stammered. Her breathing had become heavy, and her heartbeat throbbed in her head. A sudden leak came out, and instinctively her hands shot back to her pussy to stop it. Her drawers were becoming thoroughly saturated between the legs, and she felt wetness spreading slowly over the lower half of her buttocks and dripping down onto her shaking legs below. “Will you confess your failure to repress the pleasures your body offers?” the priest demanded, his voice growing louder still. “I confess”, Anna gasped as another burst came out, lasting long enough this time for her to process the ecstatic rush of release. She could feel hot piss running down both thighs, its sensation making her muscles spasm. She knew she was crying audibly now. With immense strength of will she cut it off after several endless seconds, and immediately the awful idea that she could have stopped it sooner rocked her with guilt. "Will you reveal the measure of your weakness before the Lord?” Anna's mind reeled in panic and exhaustion as confessional walls shrunk around her. The most minimal lapse in effort now sent more piss streaming into her already soaking drawers. Waves of spine-chilling shame and waves of burning, euphoric pleasure pulsed through her as it came, alternating rapidly until their friction seemed to fuse them together. The realization that she couldn’t hold it any longer came to her as if in a dream. With a final, violent convulsion she surrendered completely, piss spilling through her fingers and soaking her dress, running down her legs and pooling on the floor. Though she sensed the darkened fabric clinging to her skin, she had never felt more completely naked. "The sinner whose shame is laid bare before the Lord is the most beautiful in His eyes..." Distantly, Anna saw her growing puddle beneath her reaching the crack of light under the confessional door, and knew that the priest, the bishop, all who had gathered would know the sacrilege she had committed, the exact measure of her weakness. Still, she could not stop it. Her broken will groveled at the foot of a monstrous edifice of pain and pleasure, one she had been constructing all day. This was the form of her confession, the boundless truth she had to make known. "You are absolved."
    1 point
  26. Around 11 hours 40 minutes is probably the longest I've gone without peeing. I went to the toilet just before leaving for school at around 8.30am, didn't go to the toilet for the whole day at school then got home at around 4.30pm needing to pee pretty badly but I wasn't really desperate. I decided to challenge myself and tried to hold on until 8.30pm, but I drank coffee and lots of juice to make it even harder and by 8pm I was almost pissing myself. I lasted until around 8.10pm before giving in and finally relieving my bladder! This was a few years ago though. Nowadays I drink so much water and tea that I'd be lucky to last longer than a few hours.
    1 point
  27. British however since the Brexit vote I have no sense of pride in admitting that ☹️
    1 point
  28. Basically, this lady walks into a restroom stall, masturbates for like ten minutes, and then "squirts". But looks a lot more like just full on urinating. Or maybe those are both the same thing. Idk. But it was pretty hot. I like this one. It's on pornhub if anyone wants to do the honor of grabbing it https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph5a5f58732d345&pkey=92742331
    1 point
  29. Female estate agent is a good character for omorashi fetish. Perhaps, this character used in many of female desperation videos. I remember for one case. It wasn’t involved exactly with a real estate agent. It was with an interior designer. When I furnished my apartment, I had hired a company to design my kitchen. In order to get the exact sizes, it was necessary to come home a designer and one of the worker. The designer was a young girl about 25 years old. My flat is not ready at all. By the time we observed the kitchen the girl asked me if the toilet is installed, because she was needed to use it. It installed, but the lighting was not ready. Then she said that this is not a problem. I showed the bathroom and left her alone. She left the door open and while we are at the kitchen I overheard clear the piss sound. Apparently, she was not suffering of pee-shyness.
    1 point
  30. I wanna see the next part
    1 point
  31. My ethnicity is "Earthling" and I live on an island off the North West coast of Europe that thinks it's bigger and more important than it is! I speak a strange language that is a mish-mash of Romance and Germanic origins with bits of other languages from all over the world thrown in. Many of the inhabitants of this island think it's the only language there is!
    1 point
  32. Posting the first chapter straight away, as the prologue is very short. ? CHAPTER ONE When Jake Moors married Juliet Dobson, a lot of people wondered what he was thinking. Juliet was in her forties, not what anyone would call especially attractive, and her personality, which was self-absorbed, rude, and bordering on irresponsible, did little to make up for her physical appearance. On top of that she had a teenaged daughter who, many argued, was a bit touched in the head. Jake, meanwhile, was thirty, very charming, and what most would describe as hot. Dark and muscular, just the right side of rugged. What he might see in her was a mystery to all their acquaintance, as was how she could possibly believe that someone like him would love someone like her. It was quickly decided by most, therefore, that he must have married her for her money, of which he had very little and she, thanks to a cushy job in business administration no one could fathom how she had landed, had quite a bit. Truth be told, they were likely right. What nobody considered, however, was the presence of the teenaged daughter, a cute and curvy sixteen-year-old, as an incentive rather than a hindrance. As Rosa grew, her bedwetting did not improve. If anything, it worsened, and she was often too late for the toilet even when she was awake. Her mother dragged her to many doctors, none of whom were able to find anything physically wrong with her. She finally decided that her daughter was, in her own words, retarded, and expressed frequent disgust at her inability to control her bodily functions (‘I can’t believe I’m having to change the diapers of my seven-year-old daughter! Grow up, Rosie!’). Rosa preferred to poop in a toilet. Pooping in a diaper was messy and difficult to clean up, and when she had accidentally gone in her diaper once her mother had hit her when she discovered it and had to change her. Sometimes, though, after she had learned to change herself, she would occasionally do it on purpose, just before taking a bath. It made her feel embarrassed and ashamed, and for some reason that gave her a thrill. Rosa was not ‘retarded’. She was very intelligent, but she was introverted and a bit childish, and suffered from rather severe dyslexia. Dolls were better than people. Singing was better than writing. Her classmates bullied her and called her fat, though they didn’t know she wore diapers under her clothes. She was exempt from PE. The paperwork said ‘Incontinence’. Her classmates were told that she was too sick to exercise. Soon they, too, decided that she was retarded. ‘Oh no, Uni, you have to be nice to Miss Lilly. Miss Lilly doesn’t have any friends, you see, so we’ll be looking after her from now on.’ Rosa put her new doll down in a chair opposite from Uni. The pink and white unicorn was twelve years old now, a little frayed around the edges, but it was still her favourite toy. She sat on the floor in her bedroom in her pyjamas. It consisted of a pair of fluffy, lacy white shorts and a t-shirt with a panda on it. She liked changing into her pyjamas at once when she came home from school. She felt more comfortable if she didn’t have to look too much like an adult. Her shoulder-length red hair was tied into a ponytail. Her bedroom, which was rather large, was decorated in soft pink, white, and pale yellow. The pictures on the walls were of fairies and unicorns, and there were multiple teddybears and dolls neatly sat on the bed and shelves around the room. It looked more like the room of a six-year-old than a sixteen-year-old, but that was how she liked it. It was late Friday afternoon. Her mother was working late, as she often did, but her new stepdad was there. It was weird calling Jake her stepdad, truth be told, as he wasn’t very old. She was sixteen and he was thirty. He would have been only fourteen when she was born, so realistically he couldn’t possibly have been her father, either. Currently, she was rocking back and forth. She needed to pee, and she knew she should try to use the toilet, but honestly, what was the point? She was wearing a diaper. Besides, she would probably wet herself anyway if she tried to stand up. That happened a lot. She had managed to go all day without using her diaper. She often did that as she avoided drinking at school, but she had been thirsty when she got home and had two big glasses of water. She contemplated just peeing, but rocking like this felt good too. She put down uni on the floor, and spreading her legs out a little so her diapered crotch could touch the floor, increased the vigour of her rocking. She released a little moan. She heard the door open and stopped abruptly, looking up. Jake was standing in the doorway to her room. ‘Hey, kiddo,’ he said, smiling. ‘What are you up to?’ She blushed a little, looking away. It was wrong to find your stepdad hot, she knew that, but he was wearing a tank top that showed off his muscular arms and colourful sleeve tattoos so nicely. ‘Nothing,’ she mumbled. ‘Just playing.’ He came in and sat down next to her, looking at her dolls. ‘How’s Miss Lilly settling in?’ he asked. He was the one who had bought her Miss Lilly. ‘Uni likes her,’ she said. ‘The others may need some time to get used to her.’ ‘And how about you?’ Jake asked, looking at her. ‘Do you like her?’ ‘Oh, yes!’ said Rosa quickly. ‘I really like her! I think except for Lavender she might be my favourite doll!’ She grinned. Jake was so nice to her. Much nicer than her mother. Much nicer than her mother was to him, too, she thought. He smiled happily. ‘That’s good! I’m so glad.’ He cocked his head to the side. ‘Are you okay?’ ‘Um . . . yes?’ Rosa felt puzzled for a second, and then she realised that she had started to rock again. It was so hard to keep it in check, but she didn’t want to pee in front of Jake, even though she was sure he knew about the diapers. Her mother would have told him. ‘Do you need to pee?’ he asked, and she blushed crimson, looking away again. ‘You do, don’t you?’ ‘. . . No,’ she mumbled. Then, ‘Yes.’ ‘Why don’t you, then?’ he asked. ‘I don’t mind.’ There was a pause. ‘Actually, I’ve been kind of curious,’ he admitted. ‘It must feel good, just being able to go wherever you are.’ ‘I don’t,’ she said quickly, then blushed again, realising she had spoken out loud. ‘I mean . . . I don’t just go whenever. I can . . . I do make it to the toilet a lot of the time, and I don’t like . . . Not when I’m out.’ ‘Why not?’ She stared at him in confusion. ‘Because it’s embarrassing! I have accidents sometimes, but I mean, people don’t just go in front of other people.’ ‘Not even if they don’t know you’re doing it? Don’t you just want to sometimes? Just cause you can, and they would never know?’ Rosa’s heart was hammering in her chest. How could he know that? She couldn’t answer. Couldn’t lie and say she’d never thought of it. Never done it. Her silence seemed a confirmation of his suspicions, and he smiled. Carefully, tentatively, he reached out and stroked her cheek. ‘It’s okay,’ he said softly. ‘You can tell me, you don’t have to feel ashamed. You’ve done it, haven’t you? And it felt good.’ She stared furiously at the floor. Then she nodded once. ‘You can do it now if you want. You don’t have to sit there trying to hold it. I’ll bet your diaper is already a little wet.’ It was. And she did want to. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Stop rocking. Look at me.’ She wasn’t sure what made her do it, but she looked at him, and just as her eyes met his she let go and wet herself with a small shiver. She wasn’t sure if he could hear it or see it, but he could tell. ‘That’s it. Good girl.’ She closed her eyes. It felt so good, peeing in her diaper, his hand on her cheek, and his words. No one had ever called her a good girl before. Her mother had always berated her, called her a big baby and a retard, complained about the cost of diapers. But Jake was kind. When she had finished she opened her eyes and found him looking at her with a tender expression. ‘There. Wasn’t that nice?’ She nodded. ‘Would you like me to change you?’ She shook her head. ‘No. No, I . . . I can do it myself.’ He nodded. ‘Okay. Maybe some other time, then. I’d love to change you some day, if you want me to.’ He stood up. ‘You go get yourself changed. I’ll fix us a snack.’ He left the room. Rosa stood up. She walked out to the bathroom, her diaper heavy and wet. When she got there she took off her pyjamas, but left the diaper on a little longer, revelling in the warmth of it. Then she took it off, got into the shower, and while she masturbated, she peed a little more.
    1 point
  33. I used a new type of shading for this one! I hope it’s good
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  34. It's not too intrusive at all—I'm glad to talk about any and all aspects of my peeing habits on here. That's why I joined the site! In multi-stall bathrooms, it depends on whether anybody else is in there (or whether I think anybody else is likely to come in). If other people are present, then yes, I always sit, just because I don't want to cause a problem if anybody notices my feet pointing the wrong way under the stall. If there's only one other person in there, then I might wait a few seconds or so in case she's about to leave, because I'd really rather stand if possible. And yes, you guessed it exactly—I do indeed hold myself open even when sitting so that my stream still comes out cleanly and I don't have to wipe. I have no idea why more people don't do this, except that maybe women in general seem to think they're not supposed to touch themselves when they pee. But guys touch their penis when they pee, so why shouldn't I touch myself too?
    1 point
  35. This continues my tale about my college's business law professor, Miss Heather. While I’m a pretty good student, it was this class more than any other, that caused me at least a little concern. It was a good type of concern and I had a lot of fun with it. Miss Heather was almost twice my age at thirty five and really hot. She always dressed well, usually wearing tight skirts that barely reached her knee and always wearing heels that accentuated her long legs. During the second week of her class, I couldn’t take my eyes away from one of her animated lectures, as she moved around the front of the room, breasts bouncing in a white blouse and a tight skirt. Her antics caused me to lose control of a very obvious erection and cum in my jeans. It also might have been those very visible panty lines, of hers that were so prominently on display. I wondered what was happening to me, but there is a little more about that in chapter one of “This Very Sexy Lady”. Later in chapter two “This Very Sexy Lady": The rest of the afternoon and well into the evening our antics at the beach house continued. Heather was, so attentive and even when she was high from the wine and pot we’d consumed, made everything seem so sexy. The wetness on her swimsuit slowly dried, leaving an obvious yellow stain on that beautiful ass of hers. After a while she cuddled up on my lap and I couldn’t resist pulling the pissy crotch of her swimsuit aside and tonguing her pussy until she came. More would come later, since it was my turn to tease her for her naughtiness. After all she was still “Miss Heather”, and needed to be treated as such. Until late into the evening we did all the things that two people, totally lusting over one another, could do. She can really be a “slut" when she wants and I did whatever made her reach that level of obsession. As usual, I slept until pretty late Sunday morning, but realized Heather was up doing things around the beach house. Finally, I hear, “OK sleepy head, time to join me for breakfast”. Hungrily, I slipped on some clothes and entered the kitchen. Noticing food cooking on the gas range and smelling freshly brewed coffee I almost couldn’t wait, but way more than that was Heather. I'd say beautiful, but even more, was how she’d dressed herself. From her hair bradded in long pigtails, to her braless tits almost spilling out of a blue loose fitting blouse and wedge sandals accentuating that beautiful ass of hers. She was going to be hard to resist. The part that really got my attention, though, was the light blue pantie that peaked from below the long tails of her blouse. It clearly was my favorite, with high cut sides, a style that really looked nice on her. It took a minute, but after examining her bottom as she walked around the stove a couple of times, I noticed it wasn't a normal cotton pantie, but a girls training pantie. My curiosity was aroused. It really was a girls training pantie, made of a thick cotton, designed for a young lady having trouble controlling her bladder. The way it covered her butt and love mound was causing something to happen in my jeans and it wasn’t something I could hide either. She noticed the swelling in my pants after pouring coffee and bringing two steaming cups out to the patio. I loved the way her pantie hugged her almost swollen pussy. She put the coffee cups down and sat very close to me with her hand on my erection. We talked about our plans for the day, all the while she’d begun rocking her crossed legs. I wondered if she needed to pee. We continued our conversation as Heather decided to get more coffee. I couldn’t miss that butt of hers as she walked to the kitchen, but there was something else. Her pantie was wet around the double crotch band. Had she wet herself while playing with me. Picking up the carafe, she returned. There was no doubt, she’d peed, a wet patch nearly surrounding that sexy pussy of hers. She caught me staring. “What’s the matter, I think I know what you're looking at. Besides it’s your fault, whenever you get that big, it makes me pee a little. And anyway, this type of pantie protects the furniture if I decide to 'kind of go'. Don’t worry it’ll be OK “. Heather returned to the seat next to me but not before, I got a nice look at a now larger wet patch on her ass. The smile lighting up her face suggested there would be more. We talked about her wet ass while I reached between her legs, massaging her pussy, whispering in her ear how much her wetting turned me on. I wanted to know why she was wearing “girls training panties” and why she’d decided to just pee in them. What came next surprised me, evidently her wetting on herself really had nothing to do with me and everything to do with her own “thing” as she put it. Needing to know more, “Heather how long have you been wetting your pants?” Her answer next.
    1 point
  36. Its a great video! But I find it weird that the "uploader" is marketing it as her stuff. That video was from a user on Tumblr who used to upload pretty good content. She has since disappeared unfortunately :(
    1 point
  37. Hey guys! Another story to your attention. Some deranged fantasies of mine put into a winter scenario. Anyways, have a pleasant read! Nobody but you and Kathy will ever know about her misadventure. You might not believe it, though, because it is so unlikely for a girl like her to be a character in a story like this. The story is about an elegant scarlet-haired girl who, one frosty evening, was getting back to her house and almost didn’t pee herself. That icy night, in almost complete darkness in the courtyard between the silent apartment blocks, Kathy almost didn’t spill the hot contents of her bladder all over her jeans and almost didn’t make a warm puddle that helped clean the road from the snow. Having fought off quite a few waves of strong natural urge, the young 23-year-old was rapidly making her way through the fresh layer of snow that was still falling from the dark above. Kathy was really close to the front door - only a minute away. She only needed to pass between two large barberry bushes and walk straight to the house, but suddenly she stopped, barely dealing with another sting in her lower abdomen – that bathroom problem was truly giving her a hard time. - What the hell is that? – she thought. Through the grey darkness, that was barely lit with a feeble streetlight, she saw three brawny men appear in her way. They didn’t give her a chance to run and quickly started walking towards her. They grew in front of her eyes like three quiet shadows coming from one horrendous creature. She gasped and remembered that she had pepper spray in her purse, but they were too quick, and Kathy didn’t even manage to open it. - No, no, no… - she said in a fading voice, making a few steps back, before they were so close she could hear their breathing. Kathy’s heart sank; she got ready to protect herself with her hands, barely lifted them and… She heard snow squeaking behind her… And the men passed her like she wasn’t even there. They weren’t interested in her money or phone. They didn’t care about her body either, although hers was in a beautiful shape. Not one of them strangers even glanced at her from behind while they walked past her. Good for her, because they would have noticed Kathy’s jeans were getting flooded with urine. Poor girl’s bladder has suffered too much by then. Its weakened dam got broken and let out a powerful hot stream down her gorgeous legs. Kathy, still in shock, acknowledged that she was pissing herself, but it still felt like a bad dream, like it wasn’t happening to her. She turned around and saw a couple of rattled people running away from the silent shadows. It was them who really got unlucky. And it was one of few times in her life when Kathy was happy she wasn’t a center of attention. Kathy saw the shadow-men escape the weak light as they effortlessly became one with darkness, filled with abrasive screams of those unlucky bastards. But that’s not what interests you in that story, I might guess… Kathy was still standing there, petrified in fear; hearing the now distant screaming of those poor people. Even so, she was breathing freely now because this nightmare turned out to be nothing. And then, unnerved, her body flinched, and finally she realized that she was wetting her jeans in earnest. The feeling was almost pleasant: the flow was so strong that for a moment she felt like her legs were immersed into a warm bath… before the illusion was broken with frosty wind - and the trance dispersed. Kathy was still not moving, not knowing what to do, feeling that her sphincter was far too weak and the stream of pee spraying in her pants - far too strong. Her panties, pantyhose and jeans – everything got wet and icky. - Oh my god, - she murmured and stared at her melting island in the sea of snow. She barely noticed that her feet carried her to the entrance by themselves; and her hands – mechanically and hastily – took out the card and beeped her in. Kathy only had time to think that she hasn’t stopped peeing herself yet and probably added some potential ice to the porch. Rapidly, scared that somebody would notice her soaked jeans, Kathy walked into the elevator, which was patiently waiting for her on the ground floor. She pushed the button and suddenly realized that her finger left a wet mark across the number. - Fuck… - Kathy said aloud, understanding that she was holding her crotch with her palm and peed on it as well. The pretty scarlet-haired girl looked at herself in the large mirror and saw just what she expected to see: her jeans darkened with wetness, her make-up ruined with her tears and her lovely face white from fear. Despite all the hardship, Kathy breathed out, feeling the pressure lifting from her whole body. “At least nobody has seen it… At least they didn’t touch me”, - Kathy thought, feeling relief and shame, mixed with a weird damp sensation. A tiny yellow puddle formed between her feet. This was finally it.
    1 point
  38. It's fine if it's not a lie. In movies and shows, obviously it's fake, but it can still turn me on because it's a part of a story I already care about. If it's porn, some random women trying to pass it off as real, then they pee for six seconds? Nooooo thank you.
    1 point
  39. Version 1.0.0

    5,053 downloads

    A wonderful JAV of women desperate in the back of a car. Finally the driver stops, and the women rush to the toilet, but they don't make it in time - instead they have spectacular accidents right in front of the toilet! Clean up follows and the women make a damp walk of shame back to the car. Enjoy, Rach
    Free
    1 point
  40. Firstly, you must enter the hall of Control Panel! Then you must get past the keeper of Date, Time and Number Formats! Advance o the Administration! And change the System Locale that lies before you! https://www.isunshare.com/windows-10/change-system-locale-in-windows-10.html
    1 point
  41. Replying to OP; because it's boring. Yeah, that's right, nudity is boring. After seeing so many naked girls in porn they all kind of start looking the same and you start looking for things that set each other apart. Their body eventually stops being one of them. It also sort of detracts from a situation which would otherwise be far more sexually arousing. You can't do public humiliation/desperation videos (even if staged) if your subject is nude from the get go. The situation has suddenly become one that is far less to resemble something that would otherwise occur in reality and the "relate-ability " factor is pretty much completely gone. These might sound weird but they're very important to me and I suspect they are for others as well. And I also really like with clothed desperation seeing the subject her clothes off and reveal whatever she was wearing underneath. It's like the cherry on top, or the unwrapping of a Christmas present. When it comes to nudity, seeing less really is more in the end.
    1 point
  42. Zone Pink

    You ruined it.
    1 point
  43. Should I add this to the list of "Things I wanna see translated but will probably never happen"?
    1 point
  44. japan omorashi collection

    Which anime is the gif with the thigh-highs from?
    1 point
  45. I know I won't have any time to write for at least the next 6 weeks, so I thought I'd rid my brain of another idea that's been floating around in there for while :) Happy Spring! *********** “The district attorney still hasn’t disclosed whether or not she intends to press charges against Preston Sinclair the Third for the events of April 29th,” the news anchor declared from behind the desk. “In addition to defacing public property and destruction of windows at the capitol building, Mr. Sinclair caused tens of thousands of dollars of damage to the hotel room where he and his friends were staying.” The well-coiffed anchor glanced down and lowered her voice, a standard move for indicating a change in tone from accusatory to tragic. “Of course, Mr. Sinclair, allegedly under the influence of cocaine, fell from the balcony of the hotel room later that night, plummeting five stories. Family members have been tight-lipped as to the extent of his injuries, even as he was released from the hospital last week after spending six weeks in intensive care. Insiders have speculated that the rumors of brain damage to Mr. Sinclair have contributed to the DA’s hesita-“ The TV shut off abruptly, and Preston looked up from his position on the couch to see Angel, one of his day-shift nurses, holding the remote and looking mildly annoyed. “You know your mom doesn’t like you watching that,” Angel said flatly. Preston blinked. “I was hoping they’d show more footage of me.” Angel set down the remote and walked around to the front of the couch. She didn’t respond; she didn’t particularly care. “It’s time for lunch,” she ordered. “The occupational therapist wants you to practice cutting your food.” Preston didn’t argue as Angel helped him slowly get to his feet. All his movements were slow these days. His broken bones had healed, all his stitches had been removed, and the swelling in his brain had gone down, but he was by no means “healed.” His muscles, atrophied from the weeks he spent unconscious and confined to a hospital bed, were sore and slow to respond. Fine motor skills took effort. He had little stamina; even the most basic of tasks could leave him fatigued. But the most disconcerting result of his fall was the amnesia, coupled with a near-complete change in personality. Though he more or less recognized his parents and the ostentatious penthouse where the all lived, Preston himself bore little resemblance to the arrogant party boy shown in shaky paparazzi videos on TV. That Preston was confident and condescending, selfish and destructive, often intoxicated, swearing, arms draped around scantily-clad women. That Preston was prone to enraged outbursts, blowing up at anyone who dared challenge his privilege and trust-fund enabled authority. Now, Preston was meek and obedient, quiet and confused. He could remember bits and pieces of events, but he just couldn’t grasp why he acted the way he had. Now, he had no desire to yell at people or break things. He was just tired. His doctors had said something about frontal lobe damage, but Preston didn’t really understand it all. People just kept saying they’d “have to wait and see.” His cognitive abilities seemed to be largely intact, but the holes in his memory and his inability to align the knowledge of who he used to be with how he felt now left Preston with a constant sense of disorientation, like he wasn’t sure how to act at any given moment. Most of the time, he just kept quiet and did what his nurses and therapists asked. Currently, that meant letting Angel walk him to the dining room for lunch. Angel was one of about a half-dozen nurses that cared for Preston at home. He didn’t know exactly how old she was, but he guessed she was close to his age – 25. She was strong, smart, and efficient, but not exactly warm or talkative. Part of him was grateful for the quiet time and lack of pitying attitudes when Angel was with him, but he got the impression that she didn’t particularly enjoy being there. That impression was accurate. Generally, Angel loved her job; she was a good nurse and took pride in providing complete, dependable care for people. She came well-recommended, and the Sinclairs were paying her more per week that she earned in a typical month. But Angel couldn’t stand Preston Sinclair. To her, Preston stood for everything wrong with the world. He hadn’t worked a day in his life, and he treated everything – people, places, things – as if it was expendable. He thought he was above the law, that the rules of civilized society didn’t apply to him. If he even knew what the rules of civilized society were in the first place. So Angel did what she was hired to do, and she did it well, but nothing more. She would not be friendly with Preston, and she certainly wouldn’t sympathize with him, no matter how different he seemed from the playboy frequently shown on TMZ. Speaking of playboys…Angel thought as she watched Preston methodically cut his salmon. “Remember, you have your friends coming over this afternoon,” she said blandly. “They should get here around 2.” Preston nodded, a brief look of worry flashing across his face. He hadn’t seen any of his friends since the accident. He vaguely remembered most of them, or at least recognized the recurring characters from the paparazzi footage, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to see them. What would they talk about? Would they be mad that he was acting differently? Not that he had much of a choice, or the energy to argue. His mom had decided a few days ago that Preston would “progress” better if he had more social interaction. Of course, most of Preston’s “friends” were as vapid and narcissistic as he was; they had no real interest in spending time with an invalid. But they were all friends because their parents ran in the same circles; sociopolitical obligations were invoked, phone calls were made, and a visit was arranged. In addition to insisting on the visit, Mrs. Sinclair had demanded some updates to Preston’s appearance. A barber had been called in to give him a haircut, and Angel was to supervise a shave before the guests arrived. So, after lunch, Angel guided Preston to his obscenely large bathroom and watched, carefully if disinterestedly, as he deliberately drew the razor over his uneven stubble. “Did you want to change?” Angel asked when Preston finished shaving. Preston looked down at his t-shirt and pajama pants. “What should I wear?” Angel stopped herself from rolling her eyes. “Your mom probably expects you to put on something a bit more appropriate for greeting guests,” she explained mildly. “What would you usually wear when you went out with friends?” Preston cringed as he thought of the crisp jeans and tailored shirts hanging in his closet. They all struck him as restrictive and uncomfortable. “I just want to wear sweats,” he mumbled, pouting slightly. “Fine,” Angel tried to keep her tone neutral. “But you might want to change your shirt. You got sauce on it from lunch.” Preston looked down again and saw the incriminating splotch. He might be able to get away with clean sweats, but his mom wouldn’t stand for sloppiness. He knew that much. In his bedroom, Preston glanced at the clocked as he pulled on a clean shirt; it was already 1:45. The simple acts of eating lunch, shaving, and changing clothes had taken him over an hour. Preston leaned against his dresser. Getting ready had drained him, and he still had to make it all the way across the penthouse to the parlor before his friends arrived. Before he even had time to finish his thought, Angel was next to him with his wheelchair. Though he could physically walk, the size of the home made travel exhausting, so his parents had purchased a top-of-the-line motorized wheelchair that could also be pushed, if Preston was too tired to even steer properly. “I think it’s best to get you situated in the parlor before your friends arrive,” Angel explained as Preston nestled himself in the chair. He didn’t say thank you; she didn’t expect it. In the parlor, Preston pushed out of the settled into the corner of the cream-colored love seat. It wasn’t particularly plush or comfortable, but it looked nice in the lavishly-decorated room. Angel pushed the wheelchair back into a corner, then grabbed a blanket to tuck around Preston. He curled his legs up next to him, giving himself a bit more support as he leaned into the arm of the couch. Thus positioned, he felt secure enough to sit and talk for however long his friends would stay. Satisfied that Preston was safe and comfortable, Angel took a seat in one of the leather wingback chairs on the side of the room. Right at the stroke of 2, Preston heard the sound of young voices come through the house. Moments later, three well-dressed 20-somethings strode into the parlor, chatting amongst themselves and looking somewhat less nervous than the situation seemed to call for. “Oh my God, Preston!” the girl squeaked, her manicured eyebrows raised. “You look so good!” The compliment didn’t exactly exude sincerity, but Preston felt himself relax at the sound of Jillian’s voice. Just like his mom had hoped, the presence of his friends triggered memories. Jillian was always unbelievable in her praise; everything was “amazing,” or “so cute.” “I look like shit, Jill,” Preston’s response seemed to come almost automatically, and the two men flanking Jillian relaxed visibly. “It’s about time you got some consequences, ya dumb shit,” the short one on the left laughed. Reggie, Preston thought. “You’ve been bulletproof for way too fucking long. You’re still the only one who hasn’t spent at least a night in jail!” “Right?” the last guest – Marcus - chimed in as the three flopped onto the opposing couch. “If any of the rest of us had done as much coke as you and jumped off a fucking balcony, we’d be dead!” Preston felt a slight twist in his gut at the blasé attitude of his peers toward the topics of jail and drugs, but he was already laughing. This is how they talked; this was normal. In the corner, Angel couldn’t help but sneer. Unwilling to actively listen to inane, oblivious chatter, she pulled a book off the shelf and started to read, periodically looking up to see if Preston was getting tired. On the love seat, Preston felt some of the tension in his shoulders dissipate. The banter among his friends was steady, if vapid, and they didn’t seem to expect him to say very much. Maybe he hadn’t been a big talker before, or maybe they just kept up their own pace of conversation, not wanting to bother adjusting to Preston’s lethargic thought process. After about a half hour of outlandish stories, with Preston mostly just listening, he felt a pressure in his abdomen. His attention drifted away from the conversation as he realized he had to pee. It was a bit of an odd feeling. In the hospital, he’d been catheterized while he was unconscious; then, when he woke up, the nurses were diligent about bringing him a urinal or bedpan every two hours. When he left the hospital, his in-home nurses kept up the same schedule. Every two hours, they helped him make his way to the bathroom. His liquid intake was carefully monitored, so he always ended up releasing his bladder without ever actually feeling a sense of urgency. Now, he took stock of his body and realized that his bladder was definitely kind of full. Thinking back, he remembered that he’d drunk more than usual at lunch and, in the sluggish hustle to shave and get dressed, he hadn’t actually stopped to use the bathroom. Preston shifted in his seat, adjusting into a position that pressed his thighs closer together. A high-pitched peal of laughter from Jillian drew his focus back to the people sitting across from him. Reggie was in the middle of some tale involving a breached zoo enclosure. Marcus was laughing so hard, his face was red, and Jillian was giggling flirtatiously, petting Reggie’s shoulder. “…and then, my man Sinclair talks it all out with the security guard!” Reggie yelped, to howls of laughter from Marcus and Jillian. “The penguin was in distress, sir, we just had to help him!” Preston found himself grinning at the memory. “Gotta know your audience, bro,” he smirked. “All zoo workers are gonna care about the animals’ safety.” Marcus shook his head in awe, apparently still seeing Preston as the Teflon-skinned, smooth-talking lord of the city. Preston sat up a bit straighter, soaking in the admiration. Then his bladder surged, and Preston hunched forward, his moment of self-assured glee melting into anxiety. He couldn’t just excuse himself, not now. His friends were here, and they were treating him like nothing was wrong. Hell, they were treating him like a fucking prince. It felt good, having people act like they knew who he was and what he would do. It helped counteract the confusion and unease of the past few weeks. They weren’t terrible people after all; they were just young and confident, and he was their leader. Surely, with the way they believed in him, he could change their course of behavior. They could still have fun without hurting people and destroying things. So he couldn’t ruin those beliefs by interrupting the conversation to have Angel take him to use the bathroom. They’d see just how broken he was, and they wouldn’t want to stick around, and he wouldn’t be able to use their companionship to pull himself back to the land of the living. He’d just have to wait. But waiting was hard. The sphincter was just like any other muscle, and he hadn’t had a chance to exercise it by holding back his urine for over a month and a half. His control grew more tenuous, and the semblance of confidence he’d felt disappeared completely. In only fifteen minutes, he was barely paying attention to the discussion. He pressed his legs together, but he didn’t dare hold himself in front of his friends. Jillian, Reggie, and Marcus didn’t seem to notice that Preston had ceased contributing to the conversation altogether, but Preston was too distressed to be grateful for their ignorance. He wasn’t even sure that his bladder was all that full; he just couldn’t control what was there. He tried to clench his muscles, but they weren’t responding. It was like trying to hold onto a beach ball with two pool noodles. From the side of the room, Angel was staring at her charge. He hadn’t spoken in over 15 minutes, and he looked strained. He was still sitting up OK, but she wondered if he was getting tired. She’d probably have to kick his visitors out soon. Soon wasn’t going to be enough for Preston. With a soft whine that got lost in the still-raucous chatter, he started to lose control. A tiny yet steady trickle of liquid slipped from his bladder, gradually dampening his pants. Preston’s lower lip started to tremble. Just minutes ago, he’d felt normal, almost happy, and now, he was quietly having an accident. His friends, who had been smiling at him like nothing had ever gone wrong, were now gabbing to each other, oblivious to the fact that their charismatic former chief was sitting across from them at this very moment, wetting on himself under the blanket. The sounds of his friends’ voices seemed to fade into white noise as Preston tried with all his might to stop urinating. He kept the leak to a minimum, but couldn’t stop halt it entirely. He curled his legs up tightly next to him, and his face started to crumple visibly. Angel couldn’t see the stain creeped down Preston’s lap under the blanket, but she saw his eyebrows draw together and the corners of his mouth turn down. It looked like he was about to cry. Angel sighed softly; she supposed she couldn’t expect full emotional control from a young man so immediately removed from such a serious set of injuries. He was probably just tired, and, like a toddler, getting pouty. Setting down her book, Angel rose from her chair and cleared her throat. Preston looked up, startled, but Jillian, Reggie, and Marcus were still talking animatedly. “Beg pardon,” Angel raised her voice enough to resonate through the large room. Reggie stopped mid-sentence and stared at Angel, having only just realized that she was in the room. Angel ignored the bemused gazes. “Preston needs to rest,” she said bluntly. “So you’ll have to continue your conversation another time.” Panting slightly, Preston wasn’t even upset at Angel’s condescending dismissal. Anything was better than them knowing the real problem. Renewed by the prospect of being alone, Preston tightened his pelvic muscles again and finally cut off the dripping urine. “Of course,” Jillian simpered, getting to her feet. She smiled beatifically at Preston. “You’re doing so great. Get some rest, and I’m sure you’ll be back out with us in no time!” Reggie rolled his eyes conspiratorially at Preston, as if Angel couldn’t see. “Glad you’ve got such…devoted care, bro,” he smirked. “Better do what she says.” And with that, they all turned and walked out. Sitting around and talking had never been their thing, anyway. At least not while sober. Angel refrained from sticking her tongue out at the backs of the retreating guests, then turned back toward Preston. “Do you want to-“ But she cut off abruptly when she faced Preston. He’d shoved his hands under the blanket and was holding himself tightly. “Oh,” she said lightly. “I guess you have to pee. Let’s go, then.” Preston shook his head stubbornly, whining. He clutched dick, desperately trying to keep the rest of the urine inside. Angel set her mouth firmly. “Don’t whine, Preston. I know you’re tired, but we have to get you to the bathroom, now come on.” She snatched the blanket away, revealing the wet stain on Preston’s sweats. “Oh,” Angel repeated, stunned. “You already went.” Preston shook his head again and raised his eyes, pleading. Realization dawning, Angel sighed deeply. “OK,” she said, her tone slightly more encouraging. “We’ll get you to the bathroom to finish. Can you walk?” “Mmmm,” Preston dissented, frowning more deeply. Angel clenched her jaw, trying not to get too irritated. “Then let’s get you in your chair.” “No,” Preston whined, his eyes filling with tears. “I won’t make it.” He’d started to leak again, and he knew he wouldn’t survive the move to his chair and trip to the bathroom without losing it completely. The wheelchair was so fancy and expensive; he didn’t want to ruin it. Angel was losing patience. “So you just want to go on the couch, then?” she grumbled. “Nooooo,” Preston moaned, his whole body trembling. “The couch…I can’t…”He felt more miserable than ever. He was about to make a mess of his parents’ expensive couch or his expensive wheelchair, and Angel had to make his friends leave, all because he couldn’t even hold his bladder for a few hours. Angel rolled her eyes so hard it hurt. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph…” she growled. Stepping forward, she seized Preston under his arms and hauled him to his feet. Preston yelped as he felt the leaks turn into a flood. Urine started to spill copiously down his thighs as Angel dragged him, stumbling, off the plush carpet and onto the hardwood floor. “There,” Angel sighed, bracing herself against Preston’s back. “Now you’re not ruining your chair or the couch.” Preston let out a deep sob, overcome with both shame and relief. Hot liquid streamed down his legs, pooling on the floor beneath his feet. He sagged against Angel, weak from the mental and physical exertion of the past half hour. After a minute, the patter of urine on wood stopped. “All done?” Angel asked. Preston hummed a wordless noise of assent, and Angel adjusted her stance. She tried to gather her thoughts. It’s not that she’d never had patients wet themselves – or worse – before, but holding up a 25-year-old man so he had an accident over the hardwood floor instead of the multi-thousand-dollar love seat was definitely new. “I’ll go get some towels,” she declared. “We’ll put one on your chair so you won’t get it wet, then I’ll take you to the bathroom to get cleaned up. Can you stand here?” She straightened Preston and turned him around to face her. He nodded, dazed, which was enough for Angel. Grabbing towels from the linen closet, Angel felt a tiny pang of guilt. Yes, Preston should have just told her he needed to use the restroom, but she had forgotten to take him after lunch. She reminded herself that head injuries could be tricky; just because Preston could have an obnoxious conversation with his even-more-obnoxious friends didn’t mean that all of his mental and emotional abilities were operating a full strength. She returned to the parlor to find Preston on his knees in his puddle. He stared up at her, a bewildered look on his face, as if he still couldn’t process what he’d done. Angel calmly arranged towels on the wheelchair before pushing over to Preston. She dropped another towel on the floor to cover most of the mess, then eased Preston into the chair. He didn’t say a word as she wheeled him back across the house to his bathroom. He already had an obscenely large shower, complete with marble bench, so the only adjustment needed had been the addition of a hand-held shower head. Angel turned on the tap, then hesitated. She’d never bathed Preston before; that was the evening nurse’s job. “Preston? Do you need help getting undressed?” Preston nodded, his face still a blank mask. Angel gently helped him peel off his shirt and soaked pants, then guided him under the warm shower. Preston plopped onto the bench, head hanging. Angel carefully, professionally wiped him down, cleaning the urine from between his legs before giving him a final rinse. Clutching the towel around him, Preston remained silent while Angel wheeled him back to his room. It wasn’t even 3:30 in the afternoon, but he felt like he could sleep for hours, a feeling amplified by the pajama pants that Angel helped him into. “Preston?” Angel called, getting his attention. “My shift is over soon. I need to make sure you’re going to be OK. Are you? Is there anything I need to tell Petra when she gets here?” Preston opened his mouth slightly and blinked at Angel. “Preston,” Angel repeated, more softly. “How are you feeling? Are you hurt? Are you feeling ill?” “No,” Preston whispered finally. “OK,” Angel nodded encouragingly. “I’m going to have to write up my notes, you know that right?” Preston nodded. He just wanted to sleep. Angel sighed. She never expected any profound self-awareness or introspection from Preston to begin with, and she certainly wasn’t going to get any in his current state. “Very well, Mr. Sinclair. I’m going to go get my notebook and do my paperwork in here while you rest until Petra arrives. I’ll be right back.” Preston nodded, and Angel turned to leave. He laid down on his bed, thinking that he’d probably be asleep before she got back. He felt bad that she’d had to clean up after him; she’d been very nice about it. Very kind, given the circumstances… “Thank you,” Preston murmured, closing his eyes, but Angel was already too far away to hear.
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